Wolfhunter River (Stillhouse Lake #3)(56)

I wish I hadn’t said anything at all. “Yes. But—”

“I can help!”

“No, honey, I’m sorry. I don’t think that would be allowed.”

“But I could be your assistant! I could take notes and everything.”

“No,” I tell her. And I mean it.

“Really? Really? Now you’re going to tell me to sit here and wait around like some . . . some child? Like Connor? Vee is my age, Mom! And she needs help! I want to help!”

“And you can,” I tell her. “I promise you. But not—”

“I’m going with,” Lanny interrupts me. “And I’m not going to argue about it.”

I know that tone, I realize with chagrin. It’s the same one I use to end an argument. Lanny gets up from the bed, walks into the bathroom, and shuts the door. I hear water running. She’s going to take a shower.

There’s a knock on the closed connecting door. I open it to find it’s Sam and Connor, loaded down with food. Fast food, of course; there’s nothing else in town except one small diner that looks like it caters exclusively to locals.

I don’t intend to take my daughter with me to do this. No way in hell.

Until my phone rings, halfway through my hamburger, and I step away to answer Hector Sparks’s call. “I’ve set up the interview,” he tells me. “Detective Fairweather isn’t very pleased, but I think this is a good idea. She’s more likely to give us better information if she feels comfortable, and obviously she feels more comfortable with you.”

I take in a breath, and before I let myself think about it too much—and talk myself out of it—I say, “My daughter’s coming with me.”

“Your daughter?”

“Atlanta. She’s fifteen, around Vera’s age. I think having her in the room might be useful and put Vee more at ease.”

“You’re not, ah, concerned about exposing your child to what Vera might say?”

“She’s heard worse,” I tell him. “Trust me.”

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t want my daughter to be involved. But . . . this is a child’s life we’re talking about. They’ll almost certainly decide to try Vee as an adult. And Tennessee has a death penalty.”

“We’ll be there. Just to be clear: My daughter won’t be talking. I will. She’s my—assistant.”

“Understood,” he says. “Thank you, Ms. Proctor. This is a great relief. They’ll expect us at the county lockup at three p.m. It’s about a half-hour drive. I will meet you there.”

I check the time. It’s one o’clock. I turn and look at my family: at Sam, smiling at something Connor’s saying, watching my son with real love. At Lanny, picking fussily at the amount of lettuce on her burger, her hair still dripping from the ends. At Connor, with that light in his eyes that tells me he’s talking about something he cares about, passionately.

“Meet you there,” I tell Mr. Sparks. I hope I’m doing the right thing. At this point, all I can do is pray I haven’t made a serious, maybe fatal, mistake.





10

GWEN

Sam readily agrees that we should all take the trip together, and check out of the room while we’re at it; he seems a little too eager, to be honest, but like him, I find the motel oppressive. Connor’s found a place called Wolfhunter River Lodge that’s closer to the forest; it sounds nice, and looks comfortable.

The pictures don’t lie. It sits about five miles outside of Wolfhunter, and it’s a modest-size rustic place with big rooms, a breathtaking view of the forest from the windows, and a cheerful proprietor who seems happy to have us. Once we get to our adjoining rooms, Sam pulls me aside for a quick conversation.

“I’m taking Lanny with me to this interview,” I tell him, first thing. “Trust me. I think it’s important, or I wouldn’t do it. Right now, Lanny needs to feel useful.”

Sam doesn’t like it, I can tell, but he lets that go in favor of something else. “Give me your phone.”

I do, baffled, and he hands me a brand-new one. I look at it with a frown. Another disposable cell. “What’s this?”

“Time to change out,” he says. “I might be a little paranoid about the documentary crew, but we haven’t changed numbers in a while. Trust me?”

“Of course. The kids too?”

“Yeah, I already swapped theirs. I preprogrammed in the numbers they might want to call, plus both of these numbers. You’ve got mine, Connor, Lanny, Kez, Prester, Javier, Mike, and your mom already in there.”

“I should probably put in Sparks and Fairweather,” I tell him. “Just in case.”

He hands my phone back, and I add them into my contacts list. Then I hand the old one back. “You’ll get rid of them?” I say. He nods. “Sam . . . what’s wrong?”

“Not now,” he says. He glances down at the phone he’s holding. “We’ll talk about it tonight.”

I check the time. He’s right; I need to grab Lanny and get moving if we’re going to get to the jail on time. Assuming Sparks’s directions are accurate. I knock on the connecting door, and Lanny opens it. She’s reapplied her makeup, and she looks much more together than before. “Time to go?”